Its My Job
by macs ace
Summary: It doesn't matter what the circumstances are, its always Dean's job to take care of Sam. HurtDean! and HurtLimpSam!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:**Supernatural belongs to the ingenious Eric Kripke and associates, I'm just taking my favorite boys on a little outing, they will be returned... eventually! Mwah ha ha ha (evil laughs).

**Summary: **It doesn't matter what the circumstances are, its always Dean's job to take care of Sam. HurtDean! and HurtLimpSam!

**Spoilers**: Set before All Hell Breaks Loose.

**Its My Job**

As he coughs, the crimson viscous fluid floods his mouth, choking him. The metallic taste making his stomach heave.

Slowly turning his head to the side he coughs again, the liquid trickling from his mouth at a steady pace, sinking into the soil beneath him.

His lungs burn, his chest aches and his whole body is screaming in a silent, unheard plea. He feels broken, damaged and lost and he's so fucking scared.

His eyes, bright with unshed tears, flutter closed and he fights to open them again, afraid that if they stay closed for too long, they will never again open. He can't die now, Dean needs him, Dean can't lose anyone else, not after dad.

Footsteps quickly approaching has his heart pounding and the blood rushing in his ears. He stand no chance against another attack, his body abused as it is has already begun giving up.

"Sammy, where the hell are you?" he can hear Dean's anxious voice penetrating through the fog of pain and he opens his mouth to call his big brother.

"De..." is all he manages to croak out before he begins coughing again, the blood rising in his throat and pouring from his lips.

He looks up toward the darkened sky and the bushes surrounding his battered form, hiding him from view. As he takes in his surroundings he finds himself growing tired and his eyes slowly close as he slips into blissful unconsciousness.

_xxx_

The blood dripping from his head doesn't even slow down his determined march, like a solider ready for battle, looking for a fallen comrade, a fallen brother. He's covered with the warm red liquid and he knows he's hurt pretty badly, but he won't stop, can't stop until he finds Sammy. Dammit he'd promised, promised his dad that he'd protect Sam, keep him safe, it's his job, his responsibility the one thing he's always been able to do right. Sammy is all he has left and he's not willing to lose the one thing that keeps him sane.

Without Sam all that changes, he's got nothing left, he's achieved nothing tangible, has nothing to show for all he's done. He's done so much in his life, but no one remembers hunters, they hide and they lie and their names are blackened, but no one sees the good they've done, the lives they've saved. The people they've helped would sooner forget them, because if they don't exist then maybe the ghosts and demons don't either.

His life is anything but fair, he's given everything, everything he's had and everything he is, everything except Sam, and even him they want to take away. The demons want his baby brother, the man that he's raised from a baby, the one good thing he has left, and he's not going to let it happen, even if they take him down in the process, because if he dies saving Sam then his life means something, he's achieved something.

His eyes are blurring now, the gash on his head still freely bleeding and he's getting tired. His fear for Sam's welfare has increased dramatically in the last few minutes and he's more scared than he's been in a long time. He needs to find his brother now, to know that he's safe and to have a good long lie down before he passes out.

He opens his mouth, the words he speaks coming out more anxious than he would ever like to admit as he calls for his baby brother. "Sammy, where the hell are you?" He strains to hear anything, his head throbbing painfully and the blood roaring in his ears. Finally he hears something, a coughing choking sound not too far from him and he quickly spins his body to face the direction of the noise. He belatedly realises his mistake as his legs collapse from under him at the fast movement.

His frustration growing he cries out in anger and pain. His body is throbbing and he struggles to stand again, his legs betraying him as they repeatedly buckle under his weight. Finally he manages to get his body upright and he staggers forward, in the direction of the noise. Hoping he can find Sam quickly and get them both back to the motel room.

He makes his way through the wooded area, branches catching him, making him stumble slightly at times. Its dark and he has no light, this wasn't meant to happen, they were meant to be out of here before it got dark. It wasn't meant to go wrong, just dealing with an angry spirit, an everyday thing for them, nothing new. Just a routine salt and burn, not this.

_xxx_

He replayed the images in his mind, the vision of his little brother being dragged away by a seriously pissed off ghost. He'd never felt so helpless watching his brother being taken further and further away from him, but being thrown and hitting his head on the trunk of a huge assed tree really hadn't helped him, and he'd fallen unconscious.

He'd woken to the darkening sky, not sure how much time had passed, but knowing he needed to burn the crap outta the ghost and find Sam.

He'd burnt the bones, but not before another battle with Casper the annoying ghost. He'd been impaled in this fight, the branch of the tree penetrating his upper chest, finally sir spookalot had vanished and the next battle had begun.

Now he's walking through the forest, he's bleeding, cold and tired but mostly he's scared.

_xxx_

He's still walking, he can't remember how long he's been walking for but he can't stop moving, not yet. As he moves further forward he trips, his foot catching on something solid, sending his injured and bloodied form crashing to the ground.

_Oh for fucks sake, give me a goddamn break. _Pissed off he tries to stand up again, looking back to kick whatever took him down. He double takes, seeing the fragile and broken form of his baby brother lying next to him.

Spurred forward he scoots his body close to his brother, stroking his long hair back from his bloody forehead. Looking him over, checking his injuries. His fists clenching as he notices exactly how battered his brother really is, the blood trailing from his lips and nose, his face unrecognisable.

"Sammy, wake up for me, please Sammy, don't fucking do this to me."

His fingers move to his brother's neck searching for the telltale thump of his pulse and noting the finger mark bruises adorning Sam's throat. He feels it under his fingers, the steady but feint thump and he's relieved, until he realises, Sam isn't breathing.

_xxx_

**A/N: **This is only going to be about three chapters long. Nothing huge. Let me know what you guys think. Please review.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **Supernatural belongs to the ingenious Eric Kripke and associates, I'm just taking my favorite boys on a little outing, they will be returned... eventually! Mwah ha ha ha (evil laughs).

**Summary: **It doesn't matter what the circumstances are, its always Dean's job to take care of Sam. HurtDean! and HurtLimpSam!

**Spoilers**: Set before All Hell Breaks Loose.

**A/N: **Some of the medical stuff may be wrong, I'm a student nurse, so I know some stuff, but everything else I googled so blame the websites I looked at.

**Its My Job**

_No, no, no, no, no, this is not happening, I'm not letting it happen, not now not ever. Not while I'm still breathing._

"Breathe Sammy, fucking breathe. you don't get to do this to me, you don't get to leave me like this." The sudden onset of his own tears shook Dean from his tirade. "No, no, no, I'm gonna fucking fix this."

His eyes quickly ran over Sam's lifeless form, the full moon's brightness showing him that the bruising on Sam's neck had quickly deepened, his throat becoming swollen and puffy. Quickly he tilted Sam's head back and opened his brother's mouth, pinching his nose he breathed much needed air into Sam. Turning to look at Sam's chest he panicked, nothing had happened, his chest stayed immobile, the air he had tried to supply to his baby brother wasn't reaching his lungs. "Fuck!"

_What do I do, what the hell do I do?_

Realising he was on the verge of a total breakdown he took a deep breath, calming himself, and thought back to a situation his father had dealt with when Dean was just a kid, he remembered his dad's calm but efficient movements, remembered his dad cutting into the guy's throat and quickly inserting a pen casing into the incision. It had saved the man's life, his swollen throat cutting off the air supply to his lungs had been bypassed and the air had trickled in slowly, giving his dad enough time to get the guy to the hospital.

He had to do this fast, before Sam was denied oxygen for too long. Searching Sam's pockets he almost yelled in triumph when he found the pen that Sam always carried with him. Making a mental note to praise Sam for being such a geek, he quickly dismantled it, throwing the useless pieces onto the ground behind him. He pulled out his knife and swallowed thickly, before placing the tip of the blade at Sam's throat below his Adams apple. He breathed deeply and cut into Sam's throat, making a horizontal incision half an inch deep. He dropped his knife and pinched the wound, opening it and swiftly inserting the pen casing inside. He took a shaky breath and closed his lips around the tube protruding from his baby brother's throat, breathing two quick breaths into Sam's body, almost passing out with relief when his chest rose and fell. He breathed again, determined to keep going until Sam began breathing on his own. He was rewarded when Sam's chest began moving on its own, the life sustaining oxygen beginning its route into Sam's lungs again.

"Oh thank fuck for that." His voice shaky and thick, betraying the threatening tears.

Dean visibly sagged, his heart pounding along with his head, the adrenaline wearing off. Leaving the elder brother tired, all the aches and pains of his body resurfacing rapidly. He looked Sam over again, noticing all the other wounds on his brother's body. Sam had an obvious broken ankle, his foot twisted in an unnatural direction, and Dean saw blood staining Sam's mouth and nose, his brother's face swollen and disfigured. Running his eyes over Sam's face he was shocked to see his brother's eyes open. Clouded with pain they focused on Dean, obviously checking him over.

_xxx_

_Pain, not good, oh fucking hell this hurts._

Sam cracks his eyes open, looking up slowly, he meet Dean's eyes, obviously shocking the older Winchester. He notices his brother's pallor and the blood trickling down his face. Trailing his eyes downwards, he spots the obvious penetrating wound marring Dean's upper chest, a small piece of the branch protruding from the wound, the blood, slowly streaming from the broken skin. Opening his mouth he tries to speak, no noise coming from his mouth, it's then he feels the air, rushing in through his throat and he panics, his eyes fluttering wildly. His hands coming up to reach his neck.

His panic increases as Dean grabs for his hands, his eyes terrified and shocked at Sam's obvious panic. "Sammy, stop, please stop." His brother's scared tone stops his movements and he raises confused and questioning eyes to meet Dean's.

"I'm sorry Sammy, you weren't breathing, I was so fucking scared, you wouldn't breathe and I thought you were gonna die. I... I cut a hole in your throat, put a tube in so you could get air in. I didn't know what else to do, I thought you were gonna..." Dean's sobbing now and Sam is frightened, not for himself, but for his obviously broken hero.

He squeezes one of Dean's hands in his and his brother flinches, looking at Sam's face in confusion and worry, the tears still streaming slowly down his ashen cheeks, clearing a path through the dirt and blood streaking his face. 'Its okay' he mouths hoping that Dean will understand.

He sags with relief when Dean visibly relaxes and wipes the tears from his face, leaving his eyes red and puffy. "Enough of the chick flick moments, right Sammy?" Sam grins and Dean weakly smiles back.

"I gotta get you to a hospital dude, I can't fix this, you need real help. I don't think we're that far from the car, I can probably carry you, but I'm worried about what will happen to the tube in your throat if I move you, I don't want it to move and cut off the air again."

'Just do it' he mouths again, eyes showing his pain and exhaustion, his body, tired and aching, wants him to rest now. Dean's eyes flash with hesitation and Sam gives him a determined look. "Okay Sammy, we'll do it your way."

_xxx_

Bridal style is the safest way for Dean to carry Sam without disturbing his makeshift breathing tube, and he can't help but feel awkward. "I ain't taking you on no honeymoon after this." He quips, as he lifts Sam's larger frame into his tired arms, grunting and staggering under his little brother's weight. "Dude, who'd you eat? You weigh a ton." Sam smiles weakly, pale and tired, lines of pain etched onto his face.

Dean's body screams with pain as he begins to walk forward, his gait slow, betraying his weakness.

Their progress is slow but steady as they make their way through the moonlit forest, Dean stumbling sporadically, managing to keep his hold on Sam's body and keep himself upright. Dean gasps with relief and exhaustion as the shiny black exterior of the impala comes into view, and as he ambles towards it he realises exactly how tired and weak he really is. His body is covered with slick red, his upper chest wound and head wound still bleeding sluggishly. Its as he places his brother gently onto the floor against the impala that the world starts to spin sickeningly and he fights a wave of nausea.

Finally he manages to get his baby brother into the car, laying him gently on the back seat, making sure he's still breathing, sighing quietly as he meets his brothers pain filled blinking gaze. "It's gonna be okay Sammy, we'll get you fixed up."

He drives as quickly as he can, peering into the rear view mirror constantly, making sure Sammy's still with him.

Its as he reaches the hospital parking lot, as he opens the drivers door to climb out, that he realises he's so tired now, and as the door swings open he slumps out onto the hard, unforgiving floor beneath him, eyes closing. The last thing Dean hears are unfamiliar voices and the last thing he feels unfamiliar hands touching his heated skin. Just before unconsciousness takes him, he croaks out one word... "Sammy..."

_xxx_

**A/N: **Sorry this has taken so long to update, but I've been away for a while and I've also had a few problems with the evil, dreaded writers block. I hope to have the final chapter up soon! Enjoy and review.


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